A Labor Story or Hard Labor
by rebel diamond18
Summary: Emma Jane GorenEames enters the world.  Alex gets annoyed.  Bobby panics.


TITLE: A Labor Story (or Hard Labor)

SUMMARY: Emma Jane Goren-Eames enters the world. Alex gets annoyed. Bobby panics.

A/N: More BA fluff. I love idealized fictional accounts of labor. This may one of them. I own no character except for Emma.

Alex hummed quietly as she rocked the bassinet rhythmically, her one month old daughter, swaddled in a purple receiving blanket, was fast asleep. The bassinet, a gift from one of Bobby's buddies who built custom motorcycles, was expert carpentry stained to a beautiful smooth wood finish. Alex remembered the first time she'd seen this particular buddy. It was in the squad room when he'd stopped by to see Bobby. "Friend of yours?" she had asked. "I hope so," he pretended to be nervous as he got up to greet him, doing one of those complicated guy handshakes. Alex considered her delicate baby girl. Motorcycle dudes, car enthusiasts, and a bumbling genius in prison for murder . . . friends of Bobby's who, despite Alex's reserve, have grown on her and befriended her. Oh, the cast of characters Emma will grow up knowing. She thought back to the hospital staff and her family's reactions to these guys when they had entered the hospital to visit her and Bobby when Emma was born. Alex couldn't believe it had been a month already.

She was significantly calmer than he when she went into labor. He's a pretty antsy guy to begin with, but with the prospect of the first time witnessing childbirth and impending fatherhood hanging over his head, he was as fragmented as she'd ever seen him – his words stammered more, he didn't know which direction to go in, the poor guy. If it wasn't for the contractions, she may have stood there a little longer and watched him run around the house – Robert Goren in a blind panic, utterly lost. For once in his life he wasn't five steps ahead of the rest of them. Everyone at work wouldn't believe her.

She finally took mercy on him and took charge of the situation, told him what bags to get from where and call the hospital on her cell phone, thank god she already programmed it on speed dial, she wasn't sure he'd be able to hit all the right buttons in his state. In the nine months leading up to this moment, when she imagined what he'd be like when she finally went into labor with their first child, she expected him to be the calm one next to her. In this state, he was extremely less helpful, albeit much more entertaining.

The pain in her abdomen subsided for a bit, and Bobby gathered himself enough finally to time the contractions on his watch. When they reached the curb next to the car, she automatically took the keys from him and waddled towards the driver's side door.

"Eames!" It was the almost shriek in his voice and the incredulous look he shot her across the hood of the car that made her stop in her tracks. She looked down at her stomach and considered the water that was threatening to break at any moment.

"Oh . . . right. You drive."

"Yeah, I think I better," he replied as they swapped sides, exchanging the keys on the way. She was doubtful she'd be more comfortable in the passenger seat, but she kept this to herself. There were plenty of hours ahead of her to list all his offences, his driving high on the list, as she breathed through the pain in the hospital bed.

Never was she so exasperated with him than in the delivery room. He just about knew as much as the nurses did, with him and all his damn reading, and would leave her side every few minutes to peak over the doctor's shoulder, not wanting to miss a disgusting second of it. "I swear to God Bobby if you touch or smell anything I'll kill you in your sleep," she threatened. She knew she was being ridiculous, the things she was saying to him, but it felt sort of good – the only thing that felt good at this particular moment in time even with all the drugs pumping through her system. For his part, he remained unfazed and didn't even dignify most of her threats with a response. He was too happy and refused to fight with her, which pissed her off even more. She grimaced through yet another shot of blinding pain. She had honestly forgotten how much this hurt.

He shook his head distractedly, "Only dead people," he replied to her latest warning, not looking at her face, and earning some spectacularly strange looks from some of the nurses who didn't know their history and how he operated at a crime scene.

"Okay Alex, last push coming up," the doctor told her. "This is it." Alex grunted and strained. Bobby instantly returned to her side, taking his place holding her right hand strongly in both of his. The worried look that had been on his face before they left the house returned. This was it. No more fun with science, there was going to be an actual, live, screaming little person at the end of this. One they were wholly responsible for.

Alex leaned back against the bed, closing her eyes and gasping for breath before the final push. She felt his lips on her knuckles and smiled, opening her eyes to meet his. "This is it," he repeated softly. His worry had vanished and so had hers. He lifted his hand to her face and caught a stray tear with his thumb. They shared a private smile. Alex took a deep breath. OK, she thought, suddenly ready, let's do this.

A couple hours later she woke up from a drowsy drugged sleep and the sight that met her made her instantly forget each and every complaint and scream of pain ripping though her body. Over at the window of the hospital room, with his back to her, was Bobby. In his arms was a tiny little pink bundle, dwarfed even more in his large frame. He twisted his torso back and forth rhythmically, talking softly to Emma, turning the sleeping baby to the window, pointing out the lit up, twinkling New York skyline. He'd crane his neck down close to her and speak in a hushed tone, then lift the crook of his arm, and point out the window at some landmark, eagerly looking back at her to see her reaction, if any. Considering she was most likely sleeping, she doubted there was any, but that hardly deterred him.

"Hey," she croaked.

Bobby spun around, "Oh, hey," he whispered apologetically, "We didn't mean to wake you."

She shook her head, smiling at his use of "we," "You didn't," she winced as she sat up in bed. "How is she?" nodding to their daughter.

"Perfect," he answered instantly, bringing her over and sitting in the chair he pulled up next to Alex's bed. Small tufts of dark hair -- like her father's -- peeked out from the pink cotton.

"Your family's here," he remarked.

"All of them?" she winced again.

He nodded, "Outside in the waiting room. Want me to get rid of some of them until tomorrow?"

"Please," she sighed. She loved her family dearly, but they could be a bit overwhelming if taken all at once, not to mention loud. When she gave birth to her nephew, her family was all over the place, her sister and brother-in-law in the delivery room and then the baby wasn't even clean yet when the entirety of their family flooded the room. This was her and Bobby's baby and she wanted the two of them all to herself. This was their own private moment, the rest of the world could wait.

He gently handed the baby over to her. "You were amazing today," he whispered against her forehead, his hand caressing the baby's head. "Be right back," he left them to get rid the family until tomorrow.

Alex looked down at Emma who was blinking at her exhaustedly. "That's your dad," she told her daughter. "He's an acquired taste, but you'll learn to love him."

Before she was discharged the next day her sister visited with her nephew and a few other family members. Deakins came to the hospital, gorgeous colorful bouquet in hand, saying he "had to see it to believe it." He said he gave his sympathies to Ross, and was glad they had waited until he was long gone to take their relationship to the next level.

But everything with their baby wasn't all sugar and spice. When Emma woke them up for the fifth time on the night before his first day back since her birth, reality had begun to set in.

"Didn't think you signed up for this, did ya?" Alex commented as she moved to take the baby out of the bassinet in their bedroom and move this little midnight serenade into the living room. She laughed a little when he groaned something and rolled over, smashing a pillow over his ears to try to catch a few more hours before he had to go to work and be brilliant.

A couple hours later found them in the same position and Bobby gave up on sleeping and joined her in the living room, his alarm would've been going off in an hour anyway. Shuffling into the living room in his boxers and white t-shirt, Alex grinned when he came over to say good morning to his two girls, "This fussiness?" she said, trying to keep hold of the squirming baby in her arms, "She gets this from you, you know." He gave her a crooked smile in return, soothingly running his hand over the baby's soft hair and back. Emma quieted considerably. Alex's eyebrows shot up in surprise, "You better stop that or I'm going back to work and making you stay home on maternity leave."

He shook his head and she watched his back as he retreated into the kitchen for coffee, "That would make it paternity leave, and we tried that and couldn't get Ross to give us both off. You'd only be able to do desk work anyway." He turned back to her, "And you hate desk work," he added, being liberal with the coffee as he poured.

After he left, and so as to distract her from the unnatural fact that she wasn't going with him, Alex entertained a constant string of visitors all day. Her family brought enough food so they wouldn't have to cook for a week and a half and Caroline Barek kept her company for a couple hours until she was called in early to meet Bobby at a crime scene. Barek had been called in to fill in for Eames will she was on maternity leave. It was supposed to have been a slow day for Bobby, just finishing up paper work before Caroline came in later, but alas, crime stops for no one.

When Bobby returned home that evening, he was carrying a box brimming with presents, cards, and flowers that he said was covering her desk and bleeding onto his when he walked in that morning. "It's nice to be missed," she commented, laying Emma down on the couch next to her so she could rifle through the box. Bobby leaned over the back of the couch to hover over his daughter, smiling when he tickled her tummy and she squirmed, reaching out and grabbing his finger with her tiny fist.

"So," she ventured when he sat down on the couch next to her, Emma in his arms. "How was it today?"

He tilted his head, looked at her a moment, "Not the same," he finally answered softly. "You?"

She considered him a moment, thinking over all the visitors, presents, food, all the new experiences with Emma . . . her day without him . . . "Boring."

-End-


End file.
